Bubble World by Carol Snow

Author:Carol Snow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

21

Freesia’s Bubble World account was not reinstated during the night. She didn’t wake up to ocean sounds, coffee smells, and peacock songs. Instead, she was jolted into consciousness by her mother, who flung open her bubble door and snapped, “Aren’t you up yet? You leave in thirty minutes!”

Freesia was painfully fuzzy from the sleepy juice she’d taken the night before, but she knew better than to ask her mother for a coffee cloud.

Less than an hour later, Father’s car pulled into the staff lot next to a long, low, nearly windowless building surrounded by concrete walkways, spiky plants, and gravel. The stars and stripes fluttered high on a pole above the Arizona state flag.

When Father turned off the ignition, Angel said, “Give me twenty seconds.” Almost, but not quite, running, she fled from the car and crossed the lot to a side door.

Beyond the school’s tennis courts and dusty fields, a sea of red rooftops and white stucco walls stretched for miles. In the distance, jagged gray-brown mountains loomed against a baby blue sky.

The parking lot was hot for such an early hour.

“Supposed to hit ninety today,” Father said, as if that were a good thing.

They rounded the front of the school, weaving among groups of chattering students, and went right into the guidance office.

“It’s a shame she doesn’t have a transcript,” said Mrs. Appel, the guidance counselor responsible for students with last names N through S. “It would make the transfer process easier.”

Tall and angular, Mrs. Appel wore a brown blouse with pleated tan pants and brown boots. A plastic cylinder crammed with red licorice sticks sat on the front of her giant desk. The room smelled lemony, but not in a good way.

Nervous perspiration soaked Freesia’s palms and armpits. Even in the air-conditioning, the gray cardigan was much too warm. She wanted to go home—if not to Agalinas, then at least to that bland stucco house with the cranky mother and the baffling television set.

“How long has Freesia been out of the public education system?” Mrs. Appel asked.

“Since eighth grade. Though her program was affiliated with a public high school in Alabama.”

While Freesia remained silent, Father and Mrs. Appel put together her class schedule: AP Calculus BC; AP American History; AP English; Honors Physics; AP French. Mrs. Appel stood up. Her tan slacks were wrinkled already, and it was just past seven A.M.

“It’s a demanding load. But from what you’ve said, Mr. Somers, I’m sure Francine will have no problem. In fact, her classes may be too easy. We can talk later about getting her registered for the upcoming SAT test. And again—sorry about the locker situation.” Due to overcrowding, Francine would have to wait till next year to get her own locker. As if she’d still be here next year. Ha!

The counselor glanced at her computer. “One last thing for our records, Francine. May I have your cell phone number?”

“My what?” At last, she spoke.

“She doesn’t have a cell,” Father said. “The academy frowned on any technology that could detract from the learning process.

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